


once more to see you

by johnllauren



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Established Relationship, Historical Hetalia, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Quickies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 01:37:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: “Good evening, Prussia.” a distinctly British voice says. “It really is a lovely wedding, I applaud you.” England is standing on the porch, a half-drunk glass in his hand.“Thank you. They are a lovely couple.” Prussia responds, walking over to lean on the balcony next to England.Or, a rendezvous between two nations for the first time in far too long.





	once more to see you

**Author's Note:**

> setting: 1879

Prussia doesn’t care for balls. Wearing itchy, constraining suits, maintaining a fake smile all night, dancing with aristocrats he’s never met. Completely honestly, it sucks. Weddings, though, were among the better of his ranking of parties, but only due to the copious amount of free alcohol made available to him. 

By the time the clock strikes 11:30, Prussia has spoken to all the people he either wanted to or is obligated to speak to. The wedding is held at a Prussian palace, so he knows the area well; he pours himself another glass of whiskey and steps outside onto the porch. 

“Good evening, Prussia.” a distinctly British voice says. “It really is a lovely wedding, I applaud you.” England is standing on the porch, a half-drunk glass in his hand. He must also be tired of socializing. 

“Thank you. They are a lovely couple.” Prussia responds, walking over to lean on the balcony next to England. By this point, he’s made sure their surroundings are void of any other noisy aristocrats that may decide to eavesdrop on the two countries. 

England sighs. “I don’t know how you put up with it.” After a pause, he adds, “The weather is lovely tonight.”

“Yes, it is.” Prussia agrees. “Why don’t we take a walk around the grounds?”

England agrees, saying it would be lovely, and Prussia leads him down the porch steps. As soon as they’re out of view from everyone else at the party, England undoes the top button of his blouse and tousles his hair. “Oh, thank _fuck._ I thought I was going to die back there.”

Prussia laughs. “You should’ve had more booze. It’d lighten you up more.”

“And give more people the chance to talk to me? I’d rather choke.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Fuck you.”

They’ve walked much further than just the boundaries of the castle by now. An expanse of trees lays before them, leaves just sparse enough for the moonlight to illuminate their faces. “Our alliance is cemented, then,” Prussia says after a while, as if they aren’t usually allied with each other.

“Please, don’t bore me with talk of politics.” England says, but he knows Prussia knows their alliance is safe.

“My politics talk is sexy.” Prussia counters, and the use of the word alone makes the whole conversation unsexy.

England kisses him anyway. 

Prussia smiles into the kiss, as if he’s surprised - as if the entire point of this walk wasn’t just for the two of them to make out. He pushes England against the tree nearest them, and then their bodies are pressed together and they both start kissing faster, more desperate. The bark of the tree digs into England’s back, but that’s practically an afterthought - every other matter in the world disappeared when Prussia shoved their lips together. 

When Prussia pulls away it’s because they’ve both forgotten how to breathe and are considerably out of breath. “It has been too long since I’ve seen you,” England says, voice breathy. 

Prussia nods in agreement. “Looks like we’re indebted to the happy couple. How much time do we have until we’ve got to be back there?”

England considers. “I doubt they’ll be looking for us any time soon, the wedding’s got hours left. We’ve at least until one.”

“Excellent.” Prussia says, and he leans back in, this time making a beeline for England’s neck. England gasps at the touch and tries to pretend it didn’t give him chills. Prussia probably notices, but he says nothing, simply continuing to bite and suck at the skin.

“Prussia, stop, people are going to see that,” England says, and it doesn’t sound convincing even in the slightest. He doesn’t want Prussia to stop, but they’ve got to think about their appearance before they can think about any kind of pleasure, the amount of times they see each other be damned.

Prussia obeys, pulls away, looks England in the eyes to see if he should keep going. “Nevermind, nevermind, continue.” England says practically immediately. “They’ll go away quickly, right? Our wounds heal fast.”

He nods. “Besides, there are plenty of beautiful Prussian women to blame it on.” 

“Of all the Prussians, you’re my favorite.” England says, and it’s sappy and gross but he means it. Prussia kisses him again, slow and languid and caring. England melts into it, sliding his hands under Prussia’s dress shirt, roaming over his torso with hands that haven’t felt in so long.

The kiss echoes wanting, wanting, wanting, lips that have been neglected for a year too  
long finally reaping the benefits of being reunited, crashing against each other like oceans. Their clothes stay on for fear of being caught, but hands and lips travel and England comes undone in Prussia’s arms and Prussia follows after, England’s mouth around him. 

They find themselves still outside over an hour later, lying on the ground, staring up at the sky. England’s head is on Prussia’s chest and their hands are intertwined. They are silent, for the most part, looking at each other or the sky, kissing softly every now and again.

“I love you.” Prussia says, and England looks up at him and smiles.

“I don’t want to leave.” England’s voice is soft. Already he’s focused on their inevitable parting.

Prussia’s response is predictable. “Don’t.” he says, and England wishes it was that simple. Wishes he didn’t have duties, an empire to watch over, a country to run. Wishes he could just move in with Prussia, grow old with him like humans do, spend their days lazily in love.

But that’s not an option for them. He knows that’s not an option. They both do.

“I can’t,” England replies, but the idea of living in Prussia’s house is still so tempting. 

Prussia presses a kiss to England’s head. “I know, dear.” He says. “We’ve got to make the most of the time we do have together, though. Don’t let our parting ruin it. Isn’t it beautiful tonight?”

“It is.” England agrees.

Neither of them are sure if they’re talking about the beauty of their surroundings or each other.

**Author's Note:**

> the softest boys.  
> my tumblr: lafayettesass


End file.
